


And Then There Were Three

by ghost_writer26 (kinksock22)



Series: Curse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Birth, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Sam, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/ghost_writer26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamp of the Curse verse. Sam gives birth to Lizzie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then There Were Three

**Author's Note:**

> As most of you saw, I skipped ahead in time with the last installment of this verse. This is a little timestamp that goes back to show their first child’s birth. We’ve already established that I have never been pregnant or given birth so the always awesome obsidianromance helped out with some technical aspects.
> 
> Written on 04/11/14 on livejournal under ghost_writer26. Un-beta'd.

Sam’s eyes snap open, a sharp gasp lodging in his throat. The room around him is dark, essentially pitch black, and Sam can hardly see a foot in front of his face. Dean’s arm is a familiar, heavy weight resting over his waist, his palm splayed protectively, possessively, over Sam’s extremely pregnant belly. His chest is pressed up tight against Sam’s back and the soft puffs of his breath gently stir the hair on the back of Sam’s neck. Sam frowns into the darkness, not sure at first what woke him up. But then he feels it; a dull cramp in his belly, right below Dean’s hand.  
  
Sam shifts uncomfortably, rubbing his own hand over the swell of his stomach, trying to soothe his unborn child back to sleep. Sam closes his eyes, tries to focus on his brother’s breathing and the beating of his heart that he can feel through his back, anything to try to calm himself and their pup down. But what feels like a few minutes later, another cramp hits and Sam groans softly.  
  
His hips shift again, almost of their own accord, trying to lessen the sudden pressure he feels. Another cramp has his eyes snapping back open as reality catches up to his sleep-hazy brain.  
  
Contractions.  
  
He’s in fucking labor.  
  
He’d felt off all night before he went to sleep, uncomfortable in his own skin like he hasn’t been since he was first changed, short and irritable with everything – especially Dean – and just an overwhelming sense of something being  _not right_. He was having small little cramps every now and again but he hadn’t even thought that it could be the beginning of labor. The thought honestly never even crossed his mind. Now he feels like a freaking idiot.  
  
Sam struggles to sit up, carelessly tossing Dean’s arm off him, groaning when the movement puts pressure on his stomach and pelvis. “Dean,” he breathes, grabbing at his brother’s wrist once he’s sitting up against the headboard, his legs spread wide to try and take away some of the pressure.  
  
“Shh, S’mmy,” Dean mutters, reaching out blindly with one hand to pet over Sam. “’m here. Go back’ta sleep.”  
  
Sam huffs a sigh and squeezes his brother’s wrist, his eyes slamming closed as another contraction hits.  
  
He’s panting slightly once the pain lets up and he shakes his brother. “Dean,” he repeats, stronger.  
  
One hazy, green eye cracks open to glance up at him. “’s late, baby,” Dean murmurs.  
  
“Dean, get up,” Sam hisses, curling over his stomach as best as he can. “’m in fuckin’ labor.”  
  
Dean hums softly, closing his eye again, and pets Sam’s leg. “That’s good, Sammy,” he breathes. Sam quirks an eyebrow, his head tilting to the side as he watches his brother’s face, counting the seconds silently to himself while waiting for Dean to get it. He gets to thirty-seven before Dean’s eyes snap open and he sits up, Sam’s own eyes having adjusted enough to the dark to see the wide-eyed, panicked expression on his brother’s face. “ _What_?” Dean hisses.  
  
“Labor,” Sam grits out, both hands cradling his stomach.  
  
Dean flips the lamp on and Sam blinks owlishly even in the soft light. Dean’s kneeling next to him, both hands cradling the sides of Sam’s face as Dean searches his eyes. Sudden, paralyzing fear slams into Sam and he can’t breathe.  
  
“De,” he gasps, tears stinging his eyes and immediately spilling, tracing hot, jagged lines down his cheeks. “Oh, fuck… I can’t… Shit, ‘m gonna… Dean?”  
  
“Shh, baby,” Dean coos, his thumbs wiping uselessly at the tears that are still coursing down Sam’s cheeks. “You’re okay. ‘m here, Sammy. ‘m right here. C’mon, look at me.”  
  
Sam forces himself to focus on Dean’s eyes. He can see the same love and devotion that’s been there his whole life, the reassurance that his big brother is here, will take care of him. For the first time in his life, it doesn’t help.  
  
“I can’t do this,” Sam whispers, shaking his head.  
  
“Yes you can,” Dean counters. He drops one hand down to Sam’s stomach, rubbing gently over the side above Sam’s hip.  
  
“Please,” Sam whimpers. “De… No.”  
  
“You kinda have’ta, sweetheart,” Dean smiles softly. “Can’t keep the kid in there forever. ‘specially since it seems she’s ready’ta come out.”  
  
Sam whimpers when another contraction hits and leans forward, curling up as best as he can, his face pressed against Dean’s chest. Dean rubs his back with one hand, the other palming the back of his head. “We gotta get you to the hospital, Sam,” he says softly. “I… I can’t do this. ‘specially not here.”  
  
Logically, Sam knows this. He doesn’t expect Dean to deliver their child in the room at Bobby’s that they’ve shared since they were children themselves. But pregnant, emotional Sam wants to stay where he feels safe, where it feels like the only home they’ve ever had beside the Impala, and wants his big brother to fix it like he always does.  
  
“Boys?” Bobby’s gruff voice is followed by a knock at the door.  
  
Sam whines and tries to bury himself closer to his brother’s chest. Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head and calls out, “C’min.”  
  
Bobby pushes the door open and Sam can just barely see him out of the corner of his eye. “What’s up?”  
  
“Sam’s in labor,” Dean says calmly. Sam kinda wants to strangle him for being so calm.  
  
“Well, shit,” Bobby huffs. “Alright, c’mon. I’ll drive. Dean, you stay in the back with Sam.”  
  
Sam still doesn’t want to go but between Dean and Bobby, they get him to his feet, despite his struggles. Dean ends up half-carrying, half-dragging him out to the Impala. Even in his pain-induced fog, Sam still notices that Dean hands over the keys without hesitation, letting Bobby take the wheel of his baby. No one besides a Winchester has ever driven her since Dad bought her. Sam starts to point this out but a sharp pain low in his stomach leaves him breathless and he groans instead.  
  
Dean bundles him into the back seat, stretching him out across the bench as best as he can, Sam’s back resting against the curve of Dean’s side. Dean runs one hand through his sweat-soaked hair, his lips pressed against Sam’s temple. “Shh, Sammy, just breathe,” Dean instructs softly. Sam hadn’t realized he was even holding his breath. A part of him wants to scream, to yell, to hit Dean and call him all the filthy names that are running through his head. But he really, really doesn’t want to end up being that much of a cliché.  
  
The usually soothing purr of the Impala’s engine does nothing to calm Sam and all he can hear are the small, pained whimpers coming from his own throat. Dean keeps cooing and petting him, making soft, ridiculous noises that Sam assumes are meant to be soothing. Mostly, they just piss him off and irritate him even more. Eventually, he snaps.  
  
“Oh my God,” he groans. “Just shut the fuck up, Dean!”  
  
The car goes completely quiet for a moment, only the sound of her engine and the hum of the tires. Sam closes his eyes and groans again. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I just… Fuck, this hurts.”  
  
Dean sighs softly and his hand starts moving over Sam’s stomach again where he’d stopped with Sam’s outburst. “’s okay, Sammy,” Dean says softly.  
  
“No,” Sam sighs, trying to look at Dean over his shoulder. “’s not your fault and I shouldn’t treat you like it is.” Another contraction hits and Sam cries out, clawing at the arm Dean has wrapped around him. It’s too much and he feels trapped, unable to move with Dean behind him and his belly making him awkward and clumsy. He pants through the pain, his eyes squeezed closed, his hips moving restlessly. “Dean,” he groans once the pressure lets up slightly, his head falling back against Dean’s broad shoulder. He’s so tired and it’s only just begun.  
  
“Shh, baby,” Dean breathes, pressing a kiss to his sweaty neck. “It’s okay, Sammy. ‘m right here.”  
  
“Hurts.”  
  
“I know, love,” Dean murmurs.  
  
Sam huffs out an annoyed breath, opening his eyes and glaring over his shoulder at Dean the best that he can. “You don’t,” Sam grits out.  
  
“Well, no,” Dean agrees, shaking his head. “But I can imagine.”  
  
Sam snorts out a humorless laugh and rolls his eyes. “No, you really can’t.”  
  
Dean opens his mouth, no doubt ready to argue some more, but thankfully, Bobby interrupts. “Enough,” he snaps, causing both brothers to snap their lips closed. “We’re here,” he adds, pulling the Impala up to the entrance to the hospital.  
  
Dean helps him out of the car as best as he can, gently lowering him into the wheelchair that Bobby seems to have produced from thin air. Bobby lets Dean push him inside – going back to the car to park her in the lot. Dean smiles sweetly at the nurse, one hand rubbing Sam’s shoulder. “My mate’s in labor, sweetheart,” Dean drawls and Sam barely resists the urge to growl. Or punch Dean.  
  
The nurse smiles brightly and grabs a clipboard with enough papers to choke a horse and hands it to Dean. “Just get started filling those out and we’ll take him, get him ready.”  
  
Sam panics when she takes over pushing the wheelchair, pushing him  _away_  from Dean. His brother may be aggravating the shit out of him but there’s no way in hell that he can do this without him. “Dean.”  
  
“Shh, love,” Dean whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “Just go with the nice nurse, Sammy. They’ll get you ready and I’ll be in there soon, ‘kay?”  
  
Sam nods and his eyes fill with tears. “You gotta call Amy,” he blurts out.  
  
“’m sure…”  
  
“No, Dean,” Sam interrupts, grabbing his brother’s wrist hard enough that his knuckles crack. “You have’ta. I don’t… Please. I need it to be her.”  
  
It’s taken Sam a few months but he’s finally comfortable with Amy and he needs her to be here, doesn’t trust anyone but her and Dean and Bobby right now.  
  
“Okay, Sammy,” Dean agrees. “I’ll call her. Just relax, alright? Do what they tell you and I’ll be in as soon as I can.”  
  
Sam nods again and turns away from his brother, letting the nurse wheel him toward the maternity ward.  
  
The room that she sets him up in is nice. The lighting is soft and warm and the walls are painted a light tan and there’s a dresser and a television and the bed, all of the furniture made of sturdy, dark wood. With the exception of the ultrasound machine and other various medical equipment, Sam could fool himself into thinking this was just a really fancy hotel room.  
  
To his utter embarrassment, the nurse helps him change into a hospital gown – the light cotton material barely hitting mid-thigh and the back hanging open even though she ties it – then helps him get situated on the surprisingly soft mattress. She smiles gently at him as she squeezes his shoulder, her fingers soft and warm and small. “We’ll let your mate back soon, okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam murmurs. “Uh, thanks.”  
  
“No problem, sugar,” she grins. “First pup I take it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam breathes, his whole body tensing as another contraction hits. She helps him sit forward a bit; his knees spread wide, one small but surprisingly strong hand rubbing soothing circles along the small of his back. She shows him how to breathe through it – even though it makes Sam feel more than a little ridiculous – and tells him not to tense up, as tempting as it is.  
  
The door opens as she’s settling him back down against the mattress and Sam looks up, expecting his brother. It’s not Dean but Sam still lets out a sigh of relief when Amy enters the room, smiling brightly at him.  
  
“Hey, kiddo,” she says fondly, even though she’s really not much older than Dean. “Ready to get this little one outta you?”  
  
Sam barely notices the nurse quietly slipping out the door as Amy lifts his legs and places his feet in the stirrups. He may have gotten comfortable with her over the last few months, but he doesn’t think he’ll  _ever_ be okay with this. He closes his eyes, breathing through a contraction the way the nice, pretty nurse taught him, as Amy prods and pokes around his entrance.  
  
“Got some time yet, Sam,” she says softly and Sam’s eyes snap open to look at her. “Sorry to tell ya. You’re only just gettin’ started.”  
  
Sam groans and drops his head back onto the pillow, turning toward the door when it opens again. Dean smiles softly at him as he slips inside, immediately coming over to the side of the bed, gently grabbing Sam’s hand.  
  
“How’s it goin’?” he asks softly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over Sam’s knuckles as he looks between Sam and Amy.  
  
“Good,” Amy smiles. “As I was just explaining to Sam, he’s just getting started,” she turns to Sam and her smile softens, “I know it’s hard to do but relax and rest as much as you can now, okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam sighs.  
  
“Any questions?”  
  
“When can I get the drugs?”  
  
“Not ‘til you’re further along,” Amy chuckles, patting Sam’s knee. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”  
  
Twenty hours later, Sam is sitting up in the bed, his knees spread wide, curled over his stomach, a mess of sweat and tears. Dean’s standing next to him, chewing on his bottom lip, glancing between Sam and Amy where she’s currently positioned between Sam’s legs. What he was feeling earlier is nothing compared to this; the constant pressure and the contracts just a few short minutes apart.  
  
“You’re still not quite there yet, Sam,” she says softly.  
  
Sam collapses back against the mattress, panting through a contraction. “I can’t,” he breathes. “’s too much. I… ‘m freakin’ exhausted and we haven’t even started yet.”  
  
“I know, Sam but hopefully, now that you’ve finally reached this point, it’ll go faster.”  
  
Sam presses his hands against the mattress and shifts his hips, trying to lessen the pressure. Dean wraps one arm around Sam’s shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Sam growls and pushes his brother away. He’s hot and sweaty and having Dean that close makes him feel trapped. Dean frowns slightly and reaches out for Sam again.  
  
“Don’t,” Sam grits out. He gasps when he feels something gush between his legs, his wide eyes snapping to Amy.  
  
“It’s okay,” she soothes. “That was your water breaking. Looks like we’re ready to move on this. We’ll get the epidural in now and by that time, we should be ready to head into active labor.”  
  
Despite not really wanting Dean around, Sam reaches out and grabs his brother’s hand, squeezing his fingers hard enough that he’s pretty damn sure he’s leaving behind bruises. Before Amy can make the call to get the anesthesiologist, Sam screams with the next contraction, rocking forward, his hands curling around his own knees.  
  
“Sam…”  
  
“No,” Sam growls. “Gotta push. Fuck… Oh, God… Can’t… I gotta…”  
  
In the back of his mind, he’s dimly aware of Amy trying to stop him from bearing down but it’s like Sam’s body has taken over, working without the consent from his brain. Dean wraps his arm around Sam’s shoulders, bracing him, as Sam pushes.  
  
Once the urge lets up, he collapses back against Dean’s arm, panting. Dean pushes his hair out of his face, his concerned gaze shooting from Sam to Amy. “What the hell?”  
  
Amy sighs and shakes her head, her hands guiding Sam’s knees a little further apart. “We’re moving forward into active labor. Now.”  
  
“But it… He hasn’t had the epidural,” Dean points out needlessly. “And you just said that he wasn’t quite ready.”  
  
“First labors are notoriously unpredictable,” Amy explains softly. “Once Sam’s water finally broke, his body decided to push forward. Sometimes we have the time to work with, sometimes we simply don’t. Now that it’s started, he’s on the fast track. Your child will be born within the hour. At the most.”  
  
Sam inhales deeply, another contraction hitting strong and fast. He grabs Dean’s arm, blunt fingernails breaking the skin. “Fuck!” he cries out. “Burns… I can’t…”  
  
“Sam,” Amy snaps, forcefully pushing his knees open again where he tried to close his legs. “Push. Follow what your body is telling you.”  
  
Sam growls through the next push, staring at Amy the whole time. They repeat the process over and over again, Sam pushing on the contractions, focusing on Amy’s face between his legs, but after nearly an hour, there’s no more progress. The baby is crowning but stubbornly refuses to move any more.  
  
“Kid’s definitely a Winchester,” Dean jokes.  
  
Sam flops his head to the side and fixes Dean with a tired glare. “Not the time,” he grits out.  
  
Dean shrugs one shoulder and grins. “’m just sayin’. She’s obviously got the stubborn, pigheaded gene.”  
  
Sam whimpers softly when another contraction starts, too tired and sore to do anything else. “I can’t,” he whispers weakly. “’s too much. I can’t.”  
  
“Yes you can,” Amy insists. “The head is right there, Sam. Another good, hard push and it’ll be out.”  
  
Sam shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Can’t,” he repeats.  
  
Dean grabs one of his hands and unceremoniously shoves it between his legs, guiding his fingers over his entrance. Sam gasps softly and blinks his eyes open, immediately locking with Dean’s. There’s love and concern in his gaze but also a fair amount of pride. “Feel that?” Dean rasps. Sam nods numbly, the tips of his fingers brushing against the top of their child’s head. “You got this, Sammy.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam breathes. “I can’t. ‘s too much. It hurts.”  
  
“I know it hurts, baby,” Dean whispers back. “But you… You’re the strongest fuckin’ person I know, little brother.” He pauses, leaning down to press a kiss to Sam’s lips. “C’mon, Sam. You got this,” he repeats firmly.  
  
Sam stares into Dean’s eyes and when the next contraction hits he bears down, pushing with everything he has, a hoarse, broken scream tearing from his lips. Distantly, he can hear Amy’s voice in the background, encouraging him to keep going, telling him how good he’s doing, but mostly all he can see or hear or feel is Dean.  
  
He’s panting harsher than ever once the contraction lets up but he can hear the smile in Amy’s voice when she says, “Okay, head’s out. Let’s rest on the next one then a few short but strong pushes and you’ll be able to hold your baby.”  
  
True to her word, Amy lets Sam rest for a few minutes but then when the next contraction starts, she urges him to push. Sam squeezes his eyes closed and grabs Dean’s wrist. “Fuck,” he groans.  
  
“Shoulders, Sam. Not gonna lie, this part sucks out loud too but we’re almost done here.”  
  
Sam inhales deeply, leaning forward slightly with Dean’s help and bears down. A sob tears from his throat when he feels their child slide out of him completely, his eyes snapping open to watch Amy cradling the squirming, bloody mass. A whimpery, watery cry startles Sam and he glances at Dean then back to Amy and the baby, the cry getting stronger and louder and Sam’s breath hitches.  
  
Amy smiles when she lays the relatively cleaned up baby against Sam’s chest, one hand smoothing over a head of fine blonde hair. “Say hello to your daughter, boys,” she says softly, fondly.  
  
Sam chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and glances up at Dean again, his heart slamming against his ribs at the look of shear devotion on his brother’s face, Dean’s eyes red and glassy.  
  
“Oh my God,” Sam breathes, bringing one finger up to trail down her soft, round cheek. “Look at what we did,” he says softly to his brother, never once taking his eyes off their little girl. Her tiny cupid bow lips purse and her face scrunches up adorably as she lets out another wail and Sam can’t even be upset that Dean was right. She’s beautiful and perfect and healthy and in the end, that’s all that ever mattered to Sam.  
  
“I see,” Dean whispers back, chuckling softly. He tentatively reaches out and palms the back of her tiny head, thick fingers sinking into her curls. “Jesus, Sammy,” he breathes, shaking his head. “Look at what  _you_ did. She’s awesome. And so are you,” he adds, turning his head enough to brush a kiss to the side of Sam’s lips.  
  
Amy gives them some time before taking the baby and cleaning her up completely, measuring and weighing her at the same time. Sam dozes lightly, his eyes barely parted and sort of half-asleep as he watches her across the room.  
  
“We need a name,” Dean says softly, his lips pressed to Sam’s temple.  
  
“I… I wanna name her after mom,” Sam whispers, forcing his eyes open completely to look up at Dean.  
  
Dean smiles sadly and nods, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Mary Elizabeth Winchester,” Dean whispers and a few tears streak down his cheeks. “’s perfect.”  
  
When Amy puts the baby back into Sam’s arms, he can’t help but agree. The circumstances behind her conception might not have been ideal, but in the end, it ended up perfect.

 

 


End file.
